(Camera shows the interior of Benny Vitale’s mid-century modern office at Black Sox Park. She is seated behind her large blond wood writing desk – empty except for a large-screen iMac, and a bound report from the Kocherschmeltz Group. Her phone rings and she sees it’s her brother-in-law, team owner Vinnie Vitale.)
Benny Vitale (Sighs deeply, then answers call): Vincent. To what do I owe the pleasure?
Vinnie Vitale (audibly angry): Did you know that son-of-a-bitch is color blind?
Benny (bemused): I’ll need more, Vincent.
Benny Vitale, Black Sox GM
Benny (laughs out loud): What in the world are you talking about, Vincent?
Vinnie: A little birdie left me a video, Benedetta, of Coke-And-A-Smile giving a talk to a bunch of eggheads, and his slides are godawful purple and green. One of the pinheads mentions it and he laughs and says he’s color blind, anyway.
Benny: There’s a point in here somewhere, I hope, Vincent.
Vinnie: The point, Ben, is that ol’ Rum-And-Coke can’t even see blue. And he ends his little talk – which he titled The Psychology of the Gullible, FYI – by saying you can sell anything to morons if you color code it.
Benny (skeptical): Uh huh.
Vinnie: How gullible are you, Ben? How much are you paying Kokerheim to screw with our organization?
Benny (firmly): First of all, I have told you repeatedly not to call me ‘Ben.’ That is not my name. And Dr. Kocherschmeltz does not go by Coke-And-A-Smile or any of the other ridiculous names you spit out.
Vinnie: I pay you and him, so I’ll call you whatever I want, Ben.
Benny: No, Vincent. You will not. You will treat us with the respect we’re due as human beings and as your employees …
Vinnie: And as General Managers of a last place team?
Benny: For the moment, yes.
Vinnie: Man, I sure can pick ‘em, can’t I?
Benny: In the case of me and the K-Group, yes you can. You do realize, do you not, that the K-Group employs dozens of consultants who are NOT color blind, and who do the actual makeup of their reports.
Vinnie: Yeah, so?
Benny: So Jürgen’s minor disability is irrelevant. He does not personally do the color coding, but he and his proprietary algorithms do perform the analyses.
Vinnie: You’re letting an asshole who thinks we’re gullible screw with my organization and my people, Benedetta.
Benny: Yes I am. Could I point one thing out to you, Vincent?
Vinnie: What’s that?
Benny: Well, one of the “organizations” we’ve showered with the most attention and the most K-Group training is the Beloit Blue Sox.
Vinnie: Yeah, they won the Cox League championship last season. Not like they needed much help there, Ben.
Benny (seeming to count to 10): True enough, Vincent. But they lost most of their players to AAA and at the end of the season and inherited a whole new group of players. Players who are being trained and molded this season by coaches steeped in K-Group training and methodology.
Vinnie: Yeah, yeah. I assume you’ve got a point in there somewhere.
Benny: I do, indeed, Vincent. This team we’ve been “screwing with,” as you so inelegantly put it, recently won 17 games in a row. They are 26-6 on the season, Vincent, with a group of players who are not quite as good as last year’s group. But they are realizing their potential, Vincent, and will one day provide excellent players for the Black Sox.
Vinnie (taken aback): No shit? Seventeen in a row?
Benny: Yes, Vincent.
Vinnie: 26-6?
Benny: Is there something wrong with your hearing? Did you not grasp what I said the first time?
Vinnie: Well, hell. That’s pretty impressive.
Vinnie "A Little Birdie Told Him" Vitale
Vinnie: Umm. Maybe not.
Benny: This video … where did you say you got it? A birdie?
Vinnie: Well, that was kind of odd. It was on a portable holo-viewer, and it was in my sweater pocket.
Benny: Do you own a portable holo-viewer, Vincent?
Vinnie: Well, now that you mention it, no. No I don’t.
Benny: Hmm. Interesting.
Vinnie: How so?
Benny: This sounds like maybe someone is trying to discredit the K-Group, don’t you think?
Vinnie: I wouldn’t know, Benedetta. Who would want to do that?
Benny (rubs her chin): Hmmm. If I think of anyone, I’ll let you know.
Vinnie: Yeah, yeah. You do that. OK, Benedetta. I’ll let you get back to work.
Benny: Wonderful chatting with you, as always, Vincent.
(Call ends)
******
Benny Vitale walks out of her office, into the large, bright work space that houses the front office staff of the Chicago Black Sox and surveys the desks grouped into work pods. It’s early evening, and most of the staff has left for the night.
Nodding to one late worker who glances up from his keyboard, Benny makes her way to a corner pod and a metal Herman Miller desk that looks as if it hasn’t been used for awhile.
She pulls out the office chair and takes a seat so she can open the lower left-hand drawer of the desk, and feel towards the back with her hand.
Benny smiles and nods when she finds the drawer empty. The Bo Jordan bobblehead, which Benny had discovered one evening after someone had pointed out where Heidi Hickman had once worked, was gone.
“I knew it. She’s been here,” Benny murmured to herself. “Game on, Helga Hellscape. Game on.”
